When the Music Stops: Dance On by Tendril Press

Praises for Paddy Eger’s 84 Ribbons Author Paddy Eger realistically portrays the daily life of a professional ballet dancer in this wonderful coming of age novel. The setting of 1950’s America adds to the appeal of the story.

Cheryl Schubert (Librarian)

This was a very good coming of age story that follows Martha Selbryth as she attempts to follow her dream of becoming a professional ballerina.

Courtney Brooks (Net Galley Reviewer)

It’s a realistic look into the struggle of making it dancing professionally, including the pain, blood, sweat, and tears required, as well as the devotion to perfection. Marta doesn’t have an easy ride at the Intermountain Ballet Company, but she’s determined to prove herself and succeed. ...it’s more than just a ballet book.

Leeanna Chetsko (Net Galley Reviewer)

I loved this short book’s quiet, deceptively simple voice; its strong sense of time and place (Billings, Montana in 1957); and the timelessness of its topics and themes, which include moving away from home, making friends and enemies, and dealing with first love, loneliness, temptations, and career decisions. It is squeaky clean in terms of language and content yet also candid about things like eating disorders.

Hope Baugh (Librarian)

As a former bunhead who grew up in Washington, I thought this book was both credible and enjoyable.

Amy Anderson (Librarian)

Praises for Paddy Eger’s 84 Ribbons This was a great look into the world of ballet. This would be entertaining for readers of all ages from teen to adult.

Jessica Rockhey (Librarian)

...Overall, this book was a pleasant surprise. It is the best ballet book I have read in a long, long time and I’m excited to see that Paddy Eger has a follow up planned as I’m keen to see what happens next.

Trish Hartigan (Net Galley Reviewer)

84 Ribbons is a real story for young adult ballet fans. It’s not one of those melodramas all about some hot boy. ...This was one of the better YA theatre/sport oriented books I’ve read. ...If you liked the Drina books by Jean Estoril or Girl in Motion by Miriam Wenger-Landis; then I’d also recommend this book to you.

Sonya Heaney (Net Galley Reviewer)

I could see the whole thing unfold in front of me like a movie. ...I will continue to think about this story for a good while, it’s just one of those books. ...Thank you thank you thank you for the opportunity to read this beautiful story!

Holly Harkins (Net Galley Reviewer)

I really enjoyed this book. It reminded me of Laurie Halse Anderson’s “Wintergirls” in a great way. ...I loved how ballet provided the framework, but how the characters really took over. ...We’ll be ordering a copy for multiple collections.

Stephanie Nicora (Net Galley Reviewer)

When the Music Stops Dance On Paddy Eger Aurora, Colorado

When the Music Stops—Dance On Copyright © 2015 Paddy Eger. All Rights Reserved. www.PaddyEger.com Published by Tendril Press™ www.tendrilpress.com Denver, CO 303.696.9227 This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental. All images, logos, quotes, and trademarks included in this book are subject to use according to trademark and copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Tendril Press and Paddy Eger. The material in this book is furnished for informational use only and is subject to change without notice. Tendril Press assumes no responsibility for any errors or inaccuracies that may appear in the documents contained in this book.

ISBN 978-0-9858933-7-8 Library of Congress Control Number: 2015932943 First Publishing: September 15, 2015 Printed in the United States of America Author Photo by: Yuen Lui www.YuenLuiStudio.com Lynnwood, WA 425.771.3423 Cover Photo by shutterstock.com Art Direction, Book Design and Cover Design © 2013. All Rights Reserved by A. J. Business Design & Publishing Center Inc. www.AJImagesinc.com — 303•696•9227 Info@AJImagesInc.com

This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

To all who love ballet. May it fill your heart and soul with joy

Dance is the hidden language of the soul. â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Martha Graham

1 arta straightened her shoulders, gathered her belongings, and

descended the metal stairs onto the train station platform. She glanced at the crescent moon that hung in the darkness above the depot roof and briefly closed her eyes. Her injured ankle throbbed as she hobbled through the crush of tired-looking travelers and entered the waiting room. Only two people waited inside the depot. Neither was her mother. A uniformed man stood on a platform high above the large room beside an illuminated clock which read 12:21. He adjusted the removable lettering to read the new day’s date: May 28, 1958. She’d left Billings, Montana, less than twenty-four hours ago, but the absence of her friends already stung. The porter took his time pushing the overloaded cart into the waiting room. Once he’d unloaded the cart inside a roped off area, passengers crowded forward to redeem their bags and hurry out the exit. No mom, no rush. Marta waited until the area cleared, then collected her two bags and checked the clock again: 12:35. She bit her lip as she scanned the waiting area. Where was her mom? A tall, thin man entered from the street and looked around. Whoever he planned to meet didn’t appear to be there. He hurried to the ticket counter.

Paddy Eger

“Marta Selbryth to the ticket counter,” boomed the PA system. As she approached the counter, the man smiled. “Hi, Marta. I’m Elle’s friend, Robert Marsden.” He handed her a folded paper. “Your mother sent this note. She had an emergency with the costume delivery. I’m here to drive you home.” Marta gave him a quick once-over as she opened the note. He didn’t look like she’d pictured him. He was taller than her dad had been, and younger. He looked pleasant.

Honey, I am so sorry I’m not there to meet you. Robert volunteered to drive you home. The delivery truck carrying our costumes broke down in northern California three days ago. With the recital in two days, I need to take delivery whenever it arrives tonight. I’ll see you soon. Welcome home! Mom Marta’s excitement to be home withered. Her spoiled child pout crept onto her face, so she swallowed down her disappointment and replaced it with a stage smile. “Shall we go?” “Do you want to stop and call her? I saw a pay phone by the exit.” “No. It’s okay.” Robert gathered up her luggage, turned, and moved toward the exit. Her uneven gait beside his long strides made her feel five years old. Great. No mom and now a near-stranger who moves as fast as a marathon walker. Welcome home, self. The white face of the Union Station clock lit up the otherwise dark Tacoma skyline. They traveled north, passing Stadium High School with its castle-like appearance. It reminded her of twelve months ago when

When The Music Stops she’d been in Tacoma. She’d had dinner at the Towers with her neighbor Leo before they attended her senior prom. That felt like years ago. “Few red lights to stop us,” Robert said. “One benefit of driving late.” “Same thing happens in Billings,” Marta said, “but there are fewer signals and a lot less people driving around even on busy days.” “I doubt you’ll see many changes in Bremerton over the past nine months beyond an exchange of Navy vessels in the shipyard. You’re back in time for the beginning of the Saturday markets.” “That’s good,” she said. “Has my mom planted her garden yet?” “Only set onions and lettuce. I think she’s waiting until things dry out before she puts the rest in the ground. She joked about not wanting her seeds to float away.” As they approached the Narrows Bridge, Marta leaned forward to view the bright lights illuminating the sweeping spans. “I love this bridge.” “Your mom told me you called this the fairy bridge.” “I did. I thought a magical land waited beyond the darkness.” “Maybe it does,” Robert said. “It’s taking you home.” “It’s good to be back.” Marta felt rather than saw the shelter of evergreens guarding the roadside. She rolled down the window and inhaled the aroma of Douglas fir and pines. The salt-laden air felt thicker here than the dust-filled air of Billings. She leaned back and closed her eyes. Soon she felt the car stop. When she opened her eyes they sat in front of her family home. She jerked herself upright. How on earth had she slept through the hour-long drive? “Sorry I fell asleep. Thanks for driving me home.” “No problem. I know it’s been a difficult couple of weeks for you. One day after you’re settled in we’ll have time to get acquainted.” Right, thought Marta. That’s not on the top of my welcome home list. She shook her head, trying to release her grumpy mood much as she would have done at ballet rehearsals last fall.

Paddy Eger

Robert unloaded her luggage, opened the gate, and walked along the side of the house to unlock the back door. Marta stopped at the base of the steps to look around. The porch light illuminated her mom’s wisteria as it climbed along the grape arbor, entangling with the grape vines. The light also reflected off the window panes of her playhouse. Lots of memories lived inside the tiny doorway. But that could wait as well. Once inside the kitchen, the familiar aroma of cinnamon and coffee surrounded her. She dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and looked around. The light over the sink cast shadows on the dirty dishes left there. Not like her mom to leave the kitchen without tidying it up. Must have been in a huge hurry. Robert turned on the overhead light. “I know your mom’s sad she’s not here. Can I fix you a snack or pour you something cold to drink?” “I’m fine. Thanks again for picking me up.” Robert nodded. “I’ll set your bags in your old room.” Marta watched him move toward the hallway. He acted comfortable in the house. Guess that’s to be expected. Last spring she’d spoken with him when he took care of her mom during her bout with the flu. Plus, every time Marta called home, her mom and Robert were heading out to dinner or to visit with friends. The kitchen felt smaller than she remembered, but the familiar surroundings opened a flood of memories. Same red Formica and chrome table in the kitchen nook where she did her homework last year. Same Bakelite phone on the wall where she’d talked with high school friends. Same lacy curtains edging the corner windows. Nothing new except Robert, hovering. He returned to the kitchen and pointed to the basket on the counter. “Spare house key is in the basket. I’ll leave you to settle in.” As he stepped onto the back porch, he turned back and smiled. “Welcome home. Have a good rest.”

When The Music Stops “Thanks, I will.” After he exited the back gate, she locked the door and walked into the living room. A bouquet of red roses spilled from a tall vase, filling the muggy room with their heavy, velvety scent. She plucked the delivery card out of the arrangement. Marta,

You’ll always be my favorite ballerina. I miss

you already. Call me so I know you arrived safely. Love,

Steve

A tear slid down her cheek and slipped between her lips. Her chest tightened as she thought about him and Lynne. She shook her head, not willing to let herself dwell on Bartley. A postcard and a letter lay next to the flowers. Marta chuckled to herself as she read the postcard. Miss me yet? I wanted you to know I started missing you the minute you handed me that box of costumes for the little girls. Be home when I call on Sundays, OK? Probably in the afternoon, unless I have a date.

Lynne

Lynne. Such a funny best friend. She’d mailed a postcard showing downtown Billings, the place Marta had just left. Not hearing about her dating fiascoes or seeing her every day would be a serious adjustment. Marta picked up the letter with Steve’s home address as the return. She turned it over in her hands and hesitated. Could she handle reading what Steve wrote before she went to bed? No. She returned the letter to the table and headed back to the kitchen.

Paddy Eger

With the overhead light turned off, darkness enclosed her in the small space. Was coming home an ill-conceived decision? Should she have stayed and auditioned at the end of summer as a new corps dancer? Three more months might have been all her ankle needed to be able stand up to the rigors of the Intermountain Ballet Company again. But it had already been nearly five months since she broke it. It had gotten stronger, but not strong enough for professional ballet. And even if it did fully heal, she wasn’t sure the director, Madame Cosper, would give her another chance. Marta wasn’t sure she could face another failure. It was sad that shattering a tiny bone in her ankle ended her career in a few seconds. She still shuddered when she thought about how she slid across the icy porch and broke through the railing. Nothing happy about that New Year’s Eve in the mountains. When Marta stepped into her old bedroom, she gasped. That was fast! Her mom had reorganized. A work table and a kitchen chair filled the space where her second twin bed once stood. A double-headed work light replaced her frilly table lamp. Neatly stacked fabrics sorted by color filled an open bookcase. So much for my bedroom. Her small window facing the backyard framed a black square of night. Hopefully the daylight view of the garden would brighten everything, including her mood. The room would never be as bright or spacious as her room in Billings; there was no space here for a rocking chair and no view of the neighborhood street. She’d need time to readjust how she’d handle her quiet times.

Marta changed into an old seersucker nightgown she pulled from the dresser and stepped into the bathroom to prepare for bed. When she climbed between the sheets, their coolness relaxed her tired body. She curled up to massage her throbbing ankle and waited for sleep to erase all thoughts of her recent disappointments. Could she have stayed in Billings and lived there without dancing? Not likely.

When The Music Stops The next morning when she woke, she felt the silence in the house. Her mom must be gone already. She stretched and padded to the kitchen. No mom. A note rested against the sugar bowl on the kitchen table.

Honey, Sorry about last night. Got in about 4. Know you need your rest. Dress rehearsal until 8 tonight. See you after. I’m so glad you’re home. XOX, Mom After a long bath followed by a cup of mint tea, Marta unpacked. She hung her clothes, then moved her mom’s sewing notions from one drawer to make room for her personal items. The last item out of her suitcase was her cigar box filled with pointe shoe ribbons. She let her fingers slide through their satiny smoothness. She’d collected 84 ribbons, but the goal of attaining soloist status by that time had proven unrealistic. A featured role required at least another year of dancing, performing and competing, gathering another hundred worn out pointe shoe ribbons. And even more if Madame didn’t like you. Marta allowed her disappointment to wash over her like a chilling ocean wave. So many performances waited to be danced, now by someone else. She closed the box, stood, and looked around the room. The top of the curio her dad made would be perfect. She stretched and shoved the box back from view. What next? Open the letter from Steve. Marta retrieved the letter from the dining room table and slid the letter opener along the top edge of the envelope. She expelled a long breath as she lifted out a single sheet of ordinary notebook paper.

Paddy Eger

Dear Marta,

The moment you walked away from the ballet

company building, I started missing you. I knew

you’d leave me and Billings. I understand it’s what you need to do. Just know you haven’t seen the last of me, Miss Fluff!

Love ya! Steve

A smile, a laugh, tears, and a sharp pain mingled inside her. Thank heavens she’d shared her true feelings before leaving Steve. Otherwise he’d have sent an entirely different letter--if he’d sent one at all. Marta scanned the room, looking for something to distract her. Nothing. A tour of the backyard would refocus her. The overcast morning matched her muted mood. On close investigation, the grape arbor bore only leaves. Soon hundreds of clusters of tiny green nubs smaller than peppercorns would push out. It would be months before they’d turn pink, then rose, then grow larger and become Concord purple and be ready to pick and eat. Her mom tried to keep them trimmed, but they needed her dad’s long reach with the clippers. He’d trained the decades old branches to shade the back and one side of the garage on hot days. How he’d loved his grapes. Funny thing though, when he ate grapes, he always spit out the skins. She cut a bouquet of late May blossoms and ivy for the kitchen table, then returned inside to put them in water. What did she want to do next: sew, sleep, bake, listen to music? What she wanted to do she couldn’t. Nothing alleviated her restlessness, so she surrendered and sank down into her dad’s overstuffed rocker.

When The Music Stops As dusk changed to dark, she put a chicken and new potatoes in the oven to bake, assembled a green salad, and set the kitchen nook table for two. At nine she turned down the oven and returned to the living room to rock. When the phone rang she expected to hear her mom’s voice on the other end. “Marta! Are you OK? I’ve been frantic waiting for your call.” “Steve? Hi. I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. I got busy and… I’m sorry.” “Thank heaven you got home safely.” Marta shared her uneventful train trip, then asked about his college project. “It’s going well,” he said. “But don’t change the subject. You know how much I miss you, don’t you?” “Yes, because I miss you too.” She twisted the phone cord with her fingers as she smiled, picturing his anxious face staring at her. “That’s good to know. Did you get my letter?” “Yes, and the flowers. I loved both. I’m sorry I didn’t call.” “You know, I think of you every hour of the day and night and wish you were here with me.” “I love you and miss you too. I’ll be better about calling you from now on.” “How about I call you Sunday evenings like I did from San Francisco? That’s when I know I’ll have free time. My weekdays are so crazy, if you call I might miss it, Miss Fluff.” After they caught up on his week’s activities, Marta stayed seated in the dark kitchen, feeling warmth like a smile glide through her body. “Miss Fluff” had been their joke ever since Steve called ballet ”fluff news.” After his first night attending the ballet, he quickly changed his

Paddy Eger

tune, but the fluff nickname continued, cementing their connectedness that blossomed into love.

h Marta’s mom returned at ten, with Robert following close behind. Marta raced into her mother’s outstretched arms and enjoyed the snugness of being held tight. “Marta, honey. I’m so glad you’re home. I looked in on you when I returned, but I didn’t want to wake you.” She held her at arm’s length. “You look like you’ve lost weight. How do you feel?” “I’m fine, considering.” She fingered Marta’s short, curly hair. “When did you cut your hair?” “While I was still wearing the cast. One less thing to worry about.” “Want to talk about your re-audition?” Marta shrugged and wiped her eyes. “I danced as well as possible, considering. I didn’t tell them about the new injury. I decided mentioning it sounded like an excuse, and I wanted to act professional. I expected they’d give me the summer to regain my strength, but they said ‘sorry’ and I was expected to say ‘thank you’ and walk away.” Marta watched Robert back into the kitchen as the conversation with her mom continued.

Her mom pulled her close again and kissed her forehead. “You’ll see. You’ll prove them wrong. You’ll get stronger and dance again, right?” Marta nodded and stepped free of her mother’s arms and returned to the kitchen to reheat dinner. She reset the table for three, noticing that not only did Robert hang around, he automatically sat in her old place at the table. As they ate, the conversation settled on Marta. “So, honey,” her mom said, “how was the trip? Better than last year when you were traveling on the bus to Billings?”

When The Music Stops

“Tons better. I enjoyed watching the world roll by my window. Mrs. B. made me a box dinner and snacks. Even though I told Lynne and Steve not to come to the depot, they showed up with a funny sign.” Tears puddled in her eyes. She stifled a sob. Mom leaned forward and squeezed Marta’s hands. “I’m sure this is hard for you, but I’m glad you’re home. You’ve got all summer to regain your strength and recover.” There it was again. Did her mother think she’d be prepared to dance by the end of summer? Didn’t she realize dancing in pointe shoes might never be possible again? Did her mom expect her to pack up and move on by fall? Marta stared at her mother until she realized Robert was speaking to her. “I’m certain you’ll overcome that setback,” Robert said. “Elle’s been busy restoring your room when she’s not at the dance studio all day and night.” Marta blinked as she struggled to focus on their conversation. She couldn’t shake the strong evidence of changes in her mom, mostly because of Robert’s presence in her family home. She sat taller and folded her hands to appear to be listening. “Well, yes,” her mom said. “But you know how I get my sewing all over the place. Two clients needed Masonic gowns in a hurry last week. After the recital’s over I’ll get in and clean out more things.” Marta pushed around her potatoes and swallowed a bite of chicken. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ve got plenty of room. I’ve already unpacked, so don’t worry about making changes.” After dinner her mom and Robert continued sitting in the kitchen nook. Her mom shuffled the deck of cards left on the window ledge. “I hope you don’t mind. Robert and I usually play a few hands of gin rummy after dinner to unwind. I’m on a winning streak. You could join us if you’d like.”

Paddy Eger

“No, but thanks,” she said. “Just forget I’m here.” As they started their game, she returned to the living room to sit in her dad’s chair in the darkness, feeling her pout resurfacing. It would have been nice to sit and talk with her mom on their first night together. Marta closed her eyes and rocked. When Marta heard Robert say good night near midnight, she stepped into the kitchen for a glass of water. She startled at the outline of her mom and Robert standing on the back porch wrapped in an embrace, their bodies melded into a single shape. She listened to her mom’s laughter, followed by a long period of quiet. It appeared Robert wasn’t going away any time soon. Marta watched the silhouette break apart. “Okay,” her mom said. “Call me tomorrow. Thanks for meeting Marta yesterday. Me too. Night.” Marta stepped back into the living room as her mother returned inside, yawning. “I’m so tired after the costume delivery foul up. I wish I could sleep a week. But, there’s too much to be done for Miss Holland. After tomorrow’s recital I’ll relax. Are you coming to watch?” Marta shrugged. “If you need help.” “I really don’t. Miss Holland has a great team of parents. But I thought you might like to watch the students you knew and danced with last year. You decide. Right now I’m off to bed. I’m so glad you’re here, honey. We’ll have a long talk after I get through the recital.” Her mom pulled Marta into a tight hug like the ones Marta remembered during her recovery last January. Suddenly her sobs exploded. “Honey? What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” Marta pulled away and wiped her face. “I’m, I’m so glad to see you. I…You should go to bed. You’ll need every ounce of energy you can scrape up for tomorrow.”

When The Music Stops

Her mom reached out and grasped Marta’s hands. “Are you sure? I can stay up if you want to talk.” “No. I’m fine. Sweet dreams.” Within minutes, the kitchen clock marking off every second remained the only sound in the house. Tick, tick, tick, tick. Marta sat in the kitchen nook in her old spot. The last city bus of the evening stopped at the corner, then disappeared along the arterial. She turned on the overhead nook light and reached for the cards on the window ledge. Maybe a game of solitaire would invite sleep. Tick, tick, tick, tick. Marta played solitaire until the first signs of dawn appeared behind the neighbor’s house across the street. She put the cards back on the ledge and went to bed.

h When Marta brought in the mail the next afternoon, she found two letters addressed to her: one from Steve, one from the Intermountain Ballet Company. She tossed the one from the ballet company on the dining table. The news it held could wait almost forever. Steve’s letter, however, promised to lift her spirits. Dear Marta,

Missing you. Wishing you were here to help me

finish my project or at least here to share a few kisses along The Rims or our river walk.

Please write. I want to hear all about how you

miss me and how you can’t live without me. I promise to visit as soon as the term ends. I love you now and forever, Steve

Paddy Eger

She crushed the letter to her chest and closed her eyes, letting her thoughts wander back to their time together in Billings. Numbness spread through her as though she lay buried in wet sand. Maybe she should have stayed in Billings. No, coming home remained her only realistic choice. She placed the letter with the earlier one from Steve in her bedside table, closed her eyes, and waited for sleep to wash away her wakefulness.

h Marta wandered through the unplanted vegetable garden and under the grape arbor. She stopped at the playhouse. When she bent to enter, she inhaled the musty smell of the peeling wallpaper. She stared down at her tiny wooden table and chairs, remembering her years making grass tea, coloring pictures, and reading the picture books she’d kept on the tiny shelf in the wall. Her favorite remembrances always gravitated toward playing with ballet paper dolls and hosting a tea party for her cousin. They’d laughed and made up different dances along the sidewalk next to the playhouse. Sometimes their moms became their audience and sat on the back steps and clapped. That decade also marked the beginning of life without her dad. Losing him created an emptiness she’d yet to fill. Marta closed the playhouse door and continued her tour of the yard. Purple primroses lined the sidewalk, separating the lawn from the cement. That’s when she saw a small sign attached to the front gate. The back side was blank, so she opened the gate to read the writing on the front side: BREMCO Bremerton Real Estate & Management Company

House For Sale

Learn more about what the future holds for Marta. Order your copy today...

Acknowledgements Novel characters, like the rest of us, look for solutions. While some rush to a speedy conclusion, many unravel slowly. In Marta’s case, the story dances out across three books. I hope you’ll ‘stick around’ for the conclusion in Letters to Follow. Getting a book on it’s feet requires early readers like Gretchen Houser and web and social media support from Julie Mattern and Emily S. Hill. My young writing friend, Lucile Marshall, created the energetic character Lily Rose Costello. Together they provided direction and encouragement. Technical details add to a book’s authenticity. My thanks to Russell Warren for Bremerton, WA history, Judge Goodwin and attorney at law David Murdach for legal language and issues, Mark Allen for military details, and my husband for owning and remembering how eight-track tapes work. Also, I thank Camille Saint-Saëns for creating The Carnival of the Animals in 1886, furthering the notion that good music lasts. Once the words are written, a good editor helps shape the story. Thanks to Sarah Overstreet’s amazing patience and scrutiny When the Music Stops found its way from the first page to the final curtain. She made it possible for my publisher and creative designer, Karin Hoffman, to envision artistic details that embellish the pages of the book. Marta’s story began two decades ago with a writing class I took from my friend and author, Lauraine Snelling. I had no vision that writing about a young girl, dreaming to become a professional dancer would become three novels and begin my career as an author. Thanks to Lauraine as well as my critique groups. Your valued suggestions changed my life. Special thanks to Margie Speck for being my principal dance instructor from the time I was seven until I left for college. Your studio and your commitment to all forms of dance were my inspiration for the fictional Holland Dance Studio.

About the Author Paddy Eger is an award-winning author in Washington state. Her love of story, coupled with her years as an educator, encourages her to write for teen and older readers, to share glimpses of reality through one young dancer’s struggle to face new challenges as she steps into adulthood. Paddy’s multiple award-winning debut YA novel, 84 Ribbons, springs from her years of dance lessons. Between age three and twenty she performed ballet, character and tap routines for local recitals, hospitals, area musicals and for a World’s Fair. When the Music Stops: Dance On, the second book in the trilogy, continues Marta Selbryth’s story as she returns home and begins to face new challenges. Although she never became a professional dancer, Paddy is an avid supporter of dance and the arts. She says, “The world of ballet is a wonderful, graceful place peopled by extraordinary dancers, musicians, directors and choreographers. I hope my ballet stories help readers understand more about the sacrifices each make to bring the world of dance into all our lives.”

General Reader’s Guide All of us lead complex and multi-faceted lives. What are Marta’s strengths? Her deficits? What factors contribute to Marta’s reluctance to begin her personal life? What advice would you have given her during her recovery? Marta is eighteen when the story begins and nineteen when its end. What growth do you see in her over the year she’s at home and helping at the Holland Dance Studio? What do you imagine happens over the next year? The world of ballet and American society have made major changes since the late 1950s. What changes have you noticed or heard mentioned? How do you view those changes? Check paddyeger.com for more information, articles and news as the ballet trilogy continues.

School Reader’s Guide For an extensive guide that follows the Common Core State Standards for ELA 6-12, download the guide file from paddyeger.com The guide covers:

Key Discussion Questions

Post Reading

Creative Writing Prompt

Internet Resources